In front of black glass, five figures stand,
Each lost in thought, no guiding hand.
The street reflects in polished pane,
A ghost of Little Flinders Lane.
One checks a phone with furrowed brow,
Another scans the world somehow.
A third just leans, no place to be,
The fourth stares out, too far to see.
The last stands still, like carved-out stone,
Together near, yet all alone.
The building watches, dark and wide,
A silent witness on the side.
In black and white, the moment stays—
Five quiet lives in their own ways.
Sony A7RV
FE 35mm f1.4 GM
Check out Candid 819
